


I Love You. So Much.

by rancheel



Series: Proof That Tony Stark Has A Heart [8]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: (it's only happy because Morgan's adorable okay), Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Blood and Injury, F/M, Five Stages of Grief, Gen, Graphic Description, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Kid Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Major Character Injury, Non-Graphic Violence, Reader-Insert, no y/n
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24077644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rancheel/pseuds/rancheel
Summary: The Parker's were well acquainted with loss and grief. First with their parents, then their Uncle Ben, and now Tony Stark.Peter doesn't take into account how long he's actually gone until he comes back from The Blip and learns you, his sister, and Tony Stark had a whole life together. It's then he thinks, yeah, he deserves another five year nap.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Reader, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Reader, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Stephen Strange & Reader, Tony Stark/Original Character(s), Tony Stark/Original Female Character(s), Tony Stark/Parker!Reader, Tony Stark/Reader
Series: Proof That Tony Stark Has A Heart [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710487
Comments: 3
Kudos: 52





	I Love You. So Much.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this request sent in by an anon: I just watched endgame again and now im really in the mood for some angsty/sad tony starkxreader. Could you write something for your series with the reader being peters sister and morgans mother. Maybe you could include the fight (when peter comes back and he doesnt even know about reader and tony being together), reader being told about tony's death, may and peter meating morgan and the funeral. I'm sorry if it is to much, I love your writing so much and got this idea while watching the movie.
> 
> Not going to lie, this request put me out of commission for a hot second, but I prioritized and I'm back on track.
> 
> Anywho! Sad stuff abound! Even though this is sad, I hope you enjoy!

Coming back to life from the dead at the age of 16. Peter didn’t know if that was cool or traumatizing.

First he was dust, and now? Now he’s in the middle of a fight—that he arrived in through a sparkling ring of some kind of magic—five years later, walking around like he’s a newborn baby deer in his Iron Spider suit.

Were you okay? Was May okay? What the hell was going on, and why the hell was everything destroyed?

“My favorite young adult!” Tony exclaimed tiredly after blasting a few aliens.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter exclaimed happily, falling right into Tony’s open arms for a tight hug. He allowed himself to take a breather from the fighting he was thrown into once he felt Tony’s arms around him.

The hug was short, but held what felt like all the love in the world Tony had to give.

“Did I miss anything cool?” Peter questioned quickly, jolting when he saw who he could only assume was Pepper in a blue version of the Iron Man suit. Peter at that moment wondered if he could get a potential upgrade from his Spider suit to something more... Iron Man-esque.

Not -- Not that the Iron Spider suit wasn’t Iron Man-y enough for him, he just wanted a bit more of a consistent color scheme. Maybe even a set of colors that could be his own brand—

“You’re back,” Tony started as they pulled apart from the hug quickly, clapping his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “That’s the cool part.”

Peter cooed in thanks, talking for a few more moments with Tony before he threw himself back into the battle.

He didn’t see much of Tony after that. He met with a few other teammates that he hadn’t seen before. He even got to hold the gauntlet for a minute until he was curled up behind a bunch of rubble, hiding from gunfire before meeting Captain Marvel.

That was cool as shit.

However, what was not cool as shit was watching Tony sacrifice himself.

His whole right side was singed from the gauntlet. Completely. His breathing was shallow, and Peter was hyperventilating as Pepper helped him get to Tony to say his goodbyes.

His _goodbyes_. He didn’t want that. Peter wanted everything but that.

Tony Stark was not dead. He wasn’t dying.

But as Pepper helped him trudge to his mentor in the rubble of the battlefield, not even his mind could trick him into thinking everything was okay.

Peter was sure that this wouldn’t be happening right now if Tony didn’t end up with the gauntlet. 

Tony would still be alive, and he’d be able to catch him up on what he missed after five years of being dead. He was supposed to live and be fine.

Yet, Tony Stark had to be the hero and wear the gauntlet before snapping. 

Peter was crying over Tony’s barely breathing body. He hadn’t cried like this since Ben’s birthday rolled around who knows how long ago now. It was convulsing, heaving sobs that pained him to even inhale. He’s shocked he even spoke. 

Pepper started to gently coax him away into Rhodey’s arms, and that’s when Peter realized he didn't want to leave. He didn’t want to leave his mentor like this. Just... alone. In the rubble while he barely fights for his life. He wanted to rewind the past hour of fighting just to change the outcome of today. He wanted to pull himself from Rhodey’s arms while Pepper was the last person to talk with him. He wanted to talk with Tony. Joke with him one last time. Not have a conversation about the fight, not even think about what all happened.

Peter Parker just wanted one last meaningful conversation with Tony Stark.

And now? He’ll never get that.

The rest of the day was a blur after that. Peter was quiet, kept to himself as he curled into the neon orange blanket someone gave him. It reminded him of some show you forced him to watch a few years back, but he couldn’t be bothered to think about the title. Peter couldn’t be bothered to think about anything period. He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t care.

Tony Stark was dead. And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Someone was nice enough to bring him home to May in a nice cabin upstate. He assumed that someone was Pepper, from the gentle conversation she was trying to have with him when May flung the door open and pulled Peter into her arms the second she saw him.

The tension that slipped off his shoulders when he got into her arms made all the difference. He could feel his eyes start to sting with tears again, pressing his face into May’s cardigan that his head was rested on. 

He couldn’t focus on anything but the low hum of Pepper’s voice and the ringing in his ears. 

Peter’s head moved a little when he heard Pepper speak your name. He breathed out a shaky sigh of relief. 

You were okay. You were safe. 

May’s hands were comforting as she rubbed Peter’s back through the blanket. That’s when he noticed that someone was kind enough to peel him out of the Iron-Spider suit. 

“I just have to pass the news on to her,” Pepper reasoned softly after pressing a quick kiss to Peter’s head. “She deserves to know.”

May was quick to direct Pepper to where you were located in the cabin, sniffling as she spoke and gestured to somewhere on her right. 

Peter said your name softly. Almost tearfully, asking for you like he did when he was a bit younger and had bad nightmares. Before Tony Stark’s death. Before he was burdened with being Spider-Man. 

Before he had to grow up. 

“Pepper’s talking with her right now, sweetheart,” May reassured softly, looking down at Peter’s bruised and scraped face. “Do you want to lay down?”

Peter didn’t hesitate to nod into May’s chest. He heard her coo before they took their time going up the nice wooden steps, hearing Pepper’s voice travel once they were on the landing of the second level.

“No, no. Pep, you’re lying to me,” you demanded, successfully cutting her off as your hands flew to grab the back of the office chair you must have gotten out of. Your nervous laughter was followed by creaking of the floorboards. 

Peter made May stop so he could listen, trying to get a peek in again. 

“I wish I was—“

“You don’t need to wish,” you spat. Your knuckles were white from your tight grip before you moved to push the chair under the desk a little too rough for it to be considered normal, “because you are. You are lying to me, Pepper. My husband is still out there. He’s still alive. Tony’s just being overdramatic again and he’s going to walk through the front door—”

Pepper was quick to place her hands on your shoulders to calm your angry rambling substantially in that moment. She spoke your name gently, her own voice starting to shake from emotion before continuing. 

“Tony didn’t make it.”

It wasn’t rocket science to know that every bit of you shattered then when you fell into Pepper’s arms, her words finally starting to set in. You had put up a good fight trying to ignore the truth. But in the end, you accepted it. Peter could hear you shaking with sobs much like he had just a mere handful of hours ago, just over Tony’s body. 

Peter was starting to panic. His mind completely skipped over the title you had used for Tony, glancing up at May with bloodshot eyes. She didn’t need to have Peter speak before guiding him into the office you and Pepper were in, clearing her throat softly to get Pepper’s attention.

Her gaze fixed on Peter as he started to pull from May’s arms, trying to carefully walk over to where you stood.

“C-Can I—“

“Pete, I don’t think—“

The words in Pepper’s throat died when your head moved from her chest, the instance when you heard his name. Seeing your baby brother all beaten and bruised from the battle Tony had warned you about nights ago was almost as painful as the news you were trying to process.

It was supposed to end better than this. It was supposed to end happier, your mind screamed. You were supposed to be hugging Tony right now. Crying tears of joy with the small family you’d made together.

And it’s all been blown to shit.

After a few beats of silence, you left Pepper’s arms immediately to hug Peter into your chest, still shaking from your onslaught of tears.

Your baby brother. Your stupid, _stupid_ baby brother who dragged himself into this mess willingly was _okay_. Well, for the most part. He was a victim of The Blip, after all.

Peter didn’t mind his face being crushed against your shoulder for the first time in his 16 years of living. He clung to you as tight as he humanly could, starting to bawl again himself.

You were just relieved to see Peter in one piece.

Pepper and May had talked for a few moments while you held Peter’s face in your hands. You let out a wet chuckle at the neon blanket wrapped around him as you let your thumbs swipe just under his eyes to catch the tears that were pouring out.

“Y-You.. You look like Sherlock.”

Peter couldn’t stop the hoarse laughter that left his throat when his mind made the connection from earlier thoughts. “I thought the s-same thing.”

You scanned his face. Once you were pleased with what you saw, you didn’t hesitate to press a long kiss to a clean part of his forehead before squeezing the life out of him again. More tears continued coming from your closed eyes before you started rocking the two of you back and forth, feeling Peter’s breathing hitch like a hiccup against your shirt.

You felt another pair of arms around you then, another head laying on your free shoulder. You cracked an eye open only to see May trying to keep it together as she hugged the both of you at once.

The three of you stayed like this for what felt like a while. At least until the sobbing was contained and you could actually see past all of your tears.

Numb. That’s a feeling you and Peter shared. However, you weren’t numb enough to avoid your sudden urge to give Peter a little chewing out. You were quick to pull him from your chest and held him at arm’s distance.

“You’re.. You’re so goddamn stupid, Peter—”

“I know.”

“You should have just gone to MOMA—”

“I _know_ ,” Peter stressed, whining slightly to cut you off. “Can I please get chewed out later? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.”

You felt your face contort into a mixture of emotions from his words before pulling him into your chest one last time. May had finally let you go after you pulled Peter back in, planting a kiss to the back of your head.

“We’re talking about this later, Peter.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled loudly against your tear stained shirt before he pulled away from you.

You did one last once over on him, seeing Peter in his messy glory and neon blanket in one piece. You breathed out a sigh of relief before taking a moment to put yourself together, thankful for your equally tearful reunion with May to have already been done.

“Well, uh,” you started, waving around the office, “make yourself at home. I’ve--I’ve got to track down Pepper—”

“She’s with Morgan,” May butted in softly, causing you to look over your shoulder at her. “Go. We’ll be in the guest room.”

You couldn’t help the small smile fighting it’s way to your lips before giving May a quick hug, leaving after kissing them both on the cheek.

“Morgan?” Peter questioned quietly as he wracked his brain to think of a mutual friend with the same name. May let out a soft sigh and shook her head, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders to guide him out of the office.

“She’ll explain it later, sweetheart.”

Later came two days after Pepper brought Peter to the cabin’s doorstep.

The morning of Tony’s funeral.

Peter was thankful for the 48 hours everyone was given to try and process what’s happened. During those 48 hours, he’s done nothing but sleeping. It was a wonderful coping mechanism for the time being.

While he was awake, he came across Morgan several times. Sometimes she was playing with a bunch of toys in the den with you or May. Other times she’s sitting on the couch and happily watching a Pixar film. 

Morgan was the cutest little girl he’s ever seen. She reminded him of Tony in so many ways, but he also saw bits of someone else in her. He was too tired to try and place who.

Peter didn’t catch the time, but he caught you starting a pot of coffee in what looked like a Black Sabbath shirt and leggings in the kitchen.

“Hey,” he called out gently so you weren’t startled, leaning against the kitchen doorway. You didn’t jump and continued wrestling with the coffee pot.

“Morning to you too,” you grumble quietly, gently smacking the filter compartment and making a mental note to get a new coffee maker. Peter slid his hands into his flannel pajama pockets, padding into the large kitchen.

While you let out a long sigh, pressing the start button on the side of the coffee machine and running your hands over your tired face, Peter took the time to take in the open concept kitchen.

It looked.. Amazing. Almost exactly like you described when you talked about the kind of kitchen you wanted years ago.

“Why are you up at five in the morning, Peter?” You questioned gently, turning around to face your brother. Peter looked like a deer in headlights, squinting at the numbers on the stove only to see that yes, it was five in the morning.

“I couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Makes sense,” you replied, moving to the fridge, “usually you’re up around 1. Are you hungry now or can you wait until Morgan and May or up?”

“I can wait,” Peter said. His brain was shouting at him to say yes, since he’d been asleep for what felt like years, but he pushed his hunger aside. “I tried asking May how you ended up here, and uh—”

“It wasn’t because of The Blip, if that’s what she told you,” you said, now standing in an awkward position between the kitchen’s island and the fridge. “I came willingly.”

You let out a chuckle at that, Peter barely cracking a smile.

“She told me to ask you what happened. That it wasn’t her place,” he continued, moving to pull out one of the stools on the opposite end of the counter before eyeing the fruit basket. You sighed and finished the short journey to the fridge, grabbing two sticks of string cheese from the crisper, shutting the door with your hip.

Without any hesitation, you tossed one stick at him once you stood across from him at the island. “What else did you try to get her to say?”

Peter was quick to catch the stick before it hit his face, sputtering on his words for a moment. “What? What do you mean?”

“You and I know how you get, Pete,” you started, peeling the plastic from your cheese stick as you spoke, “when you want to find something out you go poking.”

Peter scoffed nervously, starting to open his cheese stick. 

“No I don’t—”

“Yes, you do.” You pinched some of the cheese on the edge of your stick and slowly peeled it off into a single string before opening your mouth. Peter pouted down at his occupied hands. He hated when you’re right.

You carried on elaborating while he zoned out, starting to make a sudden connection after he watched you speak, eyes drifting to the hefty ring on your finger.

“You married him?”

If you weren’t in the middle of pulling more cheese into string, you would have choked.

Well, you did choke. On your own spit, actually. You shimmied the half eaten cheese stick back into it’s plastic to place it on the counter top. After taking a few moments to try and keep your breathing even and not burst into tears, you spoke up.

“Yes.”

“You.. You _finally_ married Tony?” Peter rephrased slowly. “When?”

“In the fall,” you recounted easily, now looking down at your ring as you felt your eyes tear up. “A while after your birthday. August 24th.”

“Just like you always talked about,” Peter said with a bit of a smile now, tearing his cheese in half. You cleared your throat and turned to check on the coffee pot that started to sputter.

“Y-Yeah. You would have loved the ceremony—”

“How many years?”

“Three. I found out I was pregnant with Morgan after we.. we lost.” Your throat was tightening and you hated that feeling. So in turn, you decided to busy yourself making your usual cup of coffee.

While you were shuffling around, Peter’s head was reeling as he took in those words. He could easily place some of Morgan’s mannerisms in you after playing with her for the first time, he just blocked it out. Was it because part of him didn’t want to believe that his _mentor_ was his brother-in-law?

Most probably, yes. His mind made the memory of when he found out the two of you were officially dating flash before his eyes. He shook it off casually and realized that meant he’s also an _uncle._ Uncle Peter.

His heart swelled.

“Do you want coffee or anything, Peter?” You asked kindly, trying to focus on your coffee ratio in the mug you had picked out from the drying rack. 

“I’ll take chocolate milk?”

You cracked a smile. “Check the bottom shelf.”

Peter all but flew out of his seat, rushing to the fridge and grabbing the half gallon jug of chocolate milk that had yet to be opened. He let out a far too happy groan and moved to open the jug officially.

“If you’re drinking Morgan’s chocolate milk, you gotta get a cup. You’re not drinking straight from the jug,” you said sternly, already shoving a glass Peter’s way with a stern look. “She will kick you.”

Peter’s glee didn’t diminish like you thought it would when you told him that before you both got your drinks and sat back at the counter top, starting to converse until the sun was hung up in the sky properly and you had to get cooking breakfast.

May didn’t hesitate to pop in and help you cook while Peter decided to entertain Morgan. You were thankful they weren’t trying to find a new apartment to live in yet. You don’t think you could handle the house with just you and Morgan. Not yet.

It didn’t really hit you that today was the funeral until you went to answer the door and was greeted with Pepper, who had a bag on her shoulder, and Happy.

Needless to say, once you guided them to the kitchen and told them what you’d made for breakfast, you needed a moment to yourself and excused yourself to your room.

You knew what was in that bag. And you didn’t want to see what was recorded. Seeing pictures of Tony only made you want to curl into a tight ball in your bed and just sob for the rest of the day. But you needed to stay strong. For Morgan.

After the cry break you had in your room, you had started to get your breathing back under control when you heard a gentle knock on the door. You didn’t do anything but stare at the hardwood.

Your heart wished it was Tony, who was coming in to take the pain away. You hated the fact that you only wanted to cry more when you saw May enter and shut the door behind her. It’s almost like she knew something was wrong when she walked in. You started to cry again and she was quick to gather you into her arms so you could cry a bit more before having to do the unimaginable.

When your crying was subdued to sniffles, May informed you that Pepper was happy to clean up breakfast, and Happy and Peter kept Morgan company.

You let yourself stay in pieces for a while longer in May’s arms before hyping yourself up to face the day. When the others started to all arrive for the day, you kept your cool for the most part. You greeted everyone with a small, kind smile, occasionally sharing some tears after some hugs with certain guests.

The plan for the day was to properly say goodbye to Tony before having a small shindig of some kind. Tony wouldn’t want everyone to be a sobbing mess due to his death. You know that for a fact thanks to a late night conversation before trying to do this stupid time traveling idea. He wanted people to be sad, yes, but not let them dwell on that feeling and celebrate him without all the tears. You felt like you weren’t keeping his promise with how much you’d been crying for the past three days straight since you’ve been told about his passing, but you pushed past that to try and focus on what you needed to get done.

The video he left was heartbreaking to watch. You held Morgan tight to your side as you listened and watched the recording of your late husband with tears threatening to spill the entire time. You, Rhodey, Pepper, Steve, and Happy were in the den, watching the hologram speak.

After that, it actually felt like he was with you the whole time. From the moment the recording was over to the second you and Morgan eased the wreath Pepper made into the water of the lake around on the back end of the cabin. It was reassuring in ways you hadn’t expected it to be.

All in all, it was really a beautiful ceremony with all of Tony’s friends and colleagues. You couldn’t have asked for a better group of people to attend.

Eventually, everyone filed back inside while Pepper, May, and Clint’s wife, Laura, insisted on handling the rest of the day for you to just relax. You tried to ignore their shooing when you started to help, letting out some laughter when May started to usher you out of your own kitchen.

You really had no choice but to relax, and to you that felt like a dangerous option you were given. The first thing you did was try to look for Morgan and spend more time with her, but she was conversing with Happy on one of the benches in the back porch. She seemed so enthralled with the conversation. You assumed she was talking to him about her adventures in her tent, since they hadn’t seen each other in a few months. You decided she could be with Happy for the day, not wanting to disturb the sense of peace it gave you, seeing your daughter so happy.

A smile was settled on your face when you turned back around from the window you looked through to find Morgan, only to come face to face with Stephen and a glass of what looked like iced tea. You gasped before laughing at your sudden shock, before taking the glass.

“Thanks, Strange.”

“Anytime,” he replied evenly before standing next to you. You assumed it was for company, which you were thankful for. However, you’ve only talked to the man once and that was when he swooped in and took Tony when you were trying to have a walk around Central Park years ago.

Your hand slowly brought the glass to your lips as you looked at all of the people your husband knew, letting out a soft sigh. You noticed Peter talking with Harley and couldn’t help but crack a smile. They both seemed a bit melancholic as they conversed, but you could tell they were getting along great. That’s all you could ask for.

Finally, you took a sip of the tea and masked your surprise when you realized that it was _spiked_. Spiked iced tea. Honestly, you didn’t mind. You turned your head after you swallowed, eyeing Stephen cautiously.

“How much did you add to this?”

“Pepper only put in a splash. She said it was to get you to relax, and I agreed,” Stephen explained as he lifted his drink for a sip before sending a teasing wink your way, “doctor’s orders.”

You snorted probably too hard from that joke. You admired Stephen for his previous profession, even if he was like Tony. Stubborn, an occasional egomaniac, and charming. Thankfully, you knew your way around that type of person. Shaking your head, you moved to place the glass on the window sill, not wanting to take in too much “iced tea” just yet.

“Last time you and I talked you needed Tony for something.”

“Yes.”

“What do you need from me now?”

Stephen let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

You give him a skeptical look then, crossing your arms high on your chest to know you weren’t messing around. Stephen gave you a sincere look.

“I’m serious. I’m here to give you my condolences, as well as some company,” Stephen explained, “we both know that we’re not good at this kind of.. _thing_. And I’m also here to say that if you ever need any help, I can be of service. And Wong, if need be.”

Shock was displayed on your face as he just casually called you out on you not wanting to mingle. Your arms stayed crossed as your eyes scanned and tried to see if you could detect anything in his body language that could mean he’s just lying straight to your face. You found none. _Nothing._ Zip. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Stephen responded, placing his glass next to yours now. “Tony.. Tony was an integral piece of the puzzle to make all this happen. I’m indebted to him, in a way.”

“So you’re blaming yourself for his death?” You hated how blunt you put it. It made the both of you wince. Regardless, Stephen seemed to hesitate before nodding, grabbing his glass to take a big sip. You finally let your arms fall back to your sides, smoothing out some of your dress.

You stood in silence with Stephen, trying to digest this whole conversation.

You supposed it would be helpful to befriend a sorcerer.

“Would you be willing to watch Morgan some time? I.. I might need to take a few extra hours at work with Pepper to get things sorted.” It wasn’t _totally_ a lie. You did want to take up extra hours at Stark Industries so you could sort out any messes before they became known, but you wanted to see what he’d say.

Stephen took a long sip again before pulling his glass away to smack his lips momentarily to think.

“I don’t see why not.”

“If she was over, she wouldn’t be taught how to make balloon animals or learn magic tricks, would she?”

You could feel your smirk growing as Stephen closed his eyes with a hiss, trying to conceal his laughter.

“Mrs. Stark—”

“You gotta admit it’s kinda funny,” you mused. “I take it I can contact you by one of your agencies? Bark? Thumbtack?”

“Ha, ha,” Stephen bit out, unable to hide his smile from his concealed laughter. “Keep this up and I’m taking the tea back.”

After rolling your eyes, you grabbed your iced tea glass that was starting to sweat. “I’m done. Promise. Get my number from Pepper and we’ll actually talk about arrangements sometime.”

Without waiting for a reply, you stepped around Clint’s kids to actually try to talk to others that weren’t in the magician profession.

Ironically enough, you spoke around with almost everyone after that. You felt considerably looser and made a mental note to try and run into Pepper when she wasn’t part of the Kitchen Patrol to thank her.

Thankfully, everyone had moved into the den, starting to pick at some of the food Pepper, May, and Laura had brought out. You decided to finally slip away and sit on the dock you had stood on a handful of minutes, maybe even a few hours ago, placing a wreath that was dedicated to your dead husband on the very water it was built on top of.

That caused you to sigh and take another sip from your tea.

“I should have seen this one coming, shouldn’t I?” You questioned aloud as you looked off into the distance where you saw the wreath still afloat. “I knew you were joking when you said something about the “Parker Curse”, but I didn’t assume it would come true.”

You let out a bitter laugh, carefully shifting to let your legs hang over the edge of the wood. Your drink was placed next to your shoes you wore with your dress. You even traced the small circle of water that was forming around your glass from the condensation.

What do you say now? Should you say anything now? Hell, could Tony even _hear_ you? You wouldn’t know. Over the past three days, you didn’t know anything anymore.

“I don’t know how I’m going to do it without you, y’know. Morgan’s going to miss you. She doesn’t quite get it, I think,” you started before taking a deep breath while trying to ignore your throat contracting in pain while your eyes stung with fresh tears, “then again she might. She’s your daughter, after all.”

You paused again, still at a loss for words as your fingers started to twist at your wedding ring, trying to fight back some of the tears while your mind ran wild. Eventually, the tears did start coming. Not too hard, but they were definitely rocking through your body to make you press a hand into the dock to steady yourself.

“You--You just _had_ to sacrifice yourself, didn’t you? I told you— _I told you_ that you should’ve stayed out of it and.. and just let them handle it _themselves_ ,” you heaved, trying to take a deep breath. “But you just couldn’t sit there and do nothing once you got a taste of what they were doing.”

The fact that anger was surging through you made you even _more_ irritated. You pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes as you kept sobbing, trying to think this all out logically. You weren’t mad at Tony. You never could be. This was the grief talking and you _hated_ how well you knew that about yourself by now.

You wished you could just get past the grieving stage and go right to accepting what’s happened. But you know that’s not going to happen. That’s just your luck.

The wind started to blow slightly around you. It was warm and inviting, almost like some form of a hug. It made you pull your hands from your eyes to look around your backyard, not seeing anyone out with you.

You were thankful for some moments of peace.

You kept chatting out into the air for a while, as if you and Tony were catching up on what he missed while he was out battling to win. There were tears, there was laughter, and there was undoubtedly some anger that came through and caused you to almost drain the last of your tea in the glass.

Once your tea was drained and your eyes felt a bit drier than they had for the whole conversation, you called it quits.

“I really hope you heard all of this, Tony,” you started easily, shifting to pop up onto your bare feet and grabbing your shoes as well as your empty glass in the process. “If not.. This was super awkward and whoever ended up hearing it probably didn’t enjoy it.”

Taking one final look out into the landscape of the lake where the wreath once was, you took in a shaky breath before speaking the last thing Tony ever spoke to you: “I love you. So much.”

The wind blew one last time like it had earlier, and you couldn’t hide a smile that time before you heard the back door to the cabin slam open, Peter’s laughter to be heard as Morgan shouted. You whipped your head around in panic at first before smiling at the sight, already making your way back to the cabin.

“Mommy! Aunt Pepper made Goji berry pancakes!”

“Morgan, take it _easy!_ ”

“Hey!” You called out, unable to help your own laugh, “you better have saved some for me, Little Miss! If not you’re in big trouble!"


End file.
